


Evening Sun

by sunshinefatale



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Real Person Fiction, Video Blogging RPF, Youtubers
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dark, Deaf Character, Emotional Baggage, Florida, High School, M/M, Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy, Murder, Muteness, Mystery, Obsession, Past Rape/Non-con, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Horror, Sign Language, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:47:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24272308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinefatale/pseuds/sunshinefatale
Summary: After the death of both of his parents, George is sent to live with his aunt for a fresh start.But things take a sick turn when he unknowingly attracts the obsessive attention of a boy who wants to play a deadly game of cat and mouse.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Original Female Character
Comments: 32
Kudos: 290





	1. Chapter 1

AS THE NEWS rambled on about the tragic story that was George’s life, it were times like these that he was glad that he was deaf. The teenager sat in front of the black coffee table in the tiny living room of his aunt’s cramped Florida apartment. His hands slid across his old sketch book as he scribbled mediocre doodles in it. Every now and then, he would spare a glance at the screen of the television and roll his eyes. People would appear sobbing, and it made him scoff. It was as though they were the ones that had been harmed as they expressed their _deepest_ sympathies and going on and on about how they wished they could have done something.

Each time this happened, George wondered to himself; if any of their words were honest, if they really did care as much as they claimed they did, then why had they never once been in his life back when he was in England?

Why had they never bothered to come over for dinner once in a while? Why had they not bothered to try to help when his family nearly went bankrupt?

Why were they all mere strangers with the right to talk about him and his deceased parents like _this_?

George wasn’t an idiot. He knew that the majority of the time, when someone said they were sorry, that they weren’t really sorry. All of it was feigned compassion and empty apologies. He hated it and he hated fake people.

But at the end of the day, after all was said and done, he tried not to fixate on them too much. He didn’t need to worry about strangers telling him, _reminding_ him, of what he already knew.

It wasn’t exactly something that someone could easily forget.

_All that blood. . ._

The front door jerked open and in stepped Aunt Jaime, the only family that George had left.

“Hey, kiddo,” Jaime chimed instinctively as she dropped her keys on top of the counter and slipped her leather jacket off of her thin shoulders. Jaime instantly regretted her words when George didn’t acknowledge her, her eyes only making contact with his back as the teenager scribbled in that old journal of his.

The screen went black for a split second as it switched to a commercial. In the dark reflection, George saw the silhouette of his aunt standing at the living room entrance. He turned and closed his sketch book.

Jaime was young and in her mid-twenties. The large age difference between Jaime and his mother made it more reasonable as to why the two women were never close. They were so estranged that George didn’t even know about Jaime’s existence until a few weeks ago, when child services told him that he would be living with her - due to his age.

He wouldn’t have believed it, had it not been for the uncanny resemblance between the two.

They both held the same blue eyes and fine blonde hair that George had always wanted. But instead, he took after his father and inherited his deep brown eyes and brunette locks.

”How have you been?” It was an innocent question with good intentions. It still took everything in George for him not to roll his eyes.

George lifted his hands and signed, ‘ _The same.’_

Jaime was not used to having a deaf-mute living with her, so she mostly relied on reading George’s lips as he mouthed his words.

She felt sorry for the poor boy.

“Okay,” mumbled Jaime with a hint of glumness. “Well, it is late, so you should probably head to bed now. Didn’t forget what tomorrow is, did you? I wouldn’t want you to be late or anything.”

With his lips pursed, George nodded and gathered his things. Before he bolted up the stairs to his new bedroom, he stopped at the entrance and stared down at his aunt.

He couldn’t be more grateful for her taking him in. He didn’t know how to show it exactly, but even if he could speak, he knew that no amount of words could do justice.

He reluctantly leaned down and kissed Jaime’s cheek before rushing off to his bedroom, leaving his aunt momentarily stunned.

It had been completely unexpected.

The entire situation was odd for Jaime to even think about. Just a month ago, she was living the carefree life of a single twenty-five-year-old with a wild streak. Now she was the legal guardian of a young, grieving boy. It was strange to think about how fast someone’s whole world could change at any given second. How life could be one thing one moment and then completely different the next.

It was like living in the twilight zone.

**MONDAY**

Once George had gotten to school, he felt completely overwhelmed.

At seventeen, he hadn’t felt more lost in his entire life. For as long as he could remember, he’d always lived in the same city, the same _continent,_ with the same people, in the same house, going to the same school.

 _Now_? Now he was thousands of miles away, at a larger school, in a larger city with a whole bunch of new faces.

He made his way to the front office, struggling to find it at first, but after twenty minutes of stumbling through different hallways, finally succeeding in finding it. There he was given his new schedule, locker number and combination, and assigned a ‘Big Sister’ - someone for him to shadow for the whole day. Someone who not only shared every class with him but could communicate with him well.

Riley Davis.

Riley was nice and pretty in every way. She had a genuine smile that accentuated her soft blue eyes and she possessed fiery ginger hair. Freckles were dotted along her nose and cheeks.

 _‘Do you know where your locker is?’_ signed Riley as they walked down the corridors together.

As much as George was relieved to have someone who knew sign language so fluently as Riley, he didn’t want unneeded attention from fellow students when they talked. He would much rather keep the spotlight off of him. All he really wanted was to stay in the shadows and live out the rest of his high school career in peace.

‘ _You don’t need to sign. I can read lips. Just don’t talk too fast or too slow.’_

“Oh, awesome then,” Riley said with a smile, flashing her white pearly teeth. “Well, that makes it a lot easier!”

George smiled softly. But it quickly faded when he realized all the eyes that were on him, singling him out as the outsider that he was. _Sad british deaf-mute boy who lost his parents in a grisly murder._

He gripped the strap of his backpack with his slender fingers and began nervously twisting on it.

“Don’t worry about them. They’ll stop staring eventually. It’s a big school. They’ll find something new to talk about pretty soon,” assured Riley with an encouraging smile. She turned when she heard the double doors at the end of the corridor open loudly. Her smile faded within seconds and her eyes narrowed into slits.

George followed her gaze to the lone boy who made his way down the hall with an easy smile on his face. He stood straight and tall with his head up, like he was completely sure of his surroundings.

George’s mother always used to tell him that there was a fine line between confident and cocky. And just by looking at him, George could tell that this boy danced on that very line.

When he passed by, he grinned (but it seemed so _empty_ ) at Riley. She scowled and turned to her locker. Unbothered, he simply pushed forward through the halls. George watched as he approached a group of boys and easily slid into their laughing fit. 

With furrowed brows, George inquired, _‘Who is he?’_

”He’s not right. He’s, um, he’s sick,” she murmured. “Do yourself a favor and stay away from him. Far, far away.”


	2. Chapter 2

**TUESDAY**

CLAY RAN HIS fingers over the surface of his desk, face slackened and presenting a stoic expression. He observed the students that filled the room with disinterest. Moments later, Miss Roberts entered through the door and called for everyone’s attention. Neat and long black hair and big hazel eyes rimmed with eyeliner – the teenager had always thought she was fucking hot (and he had always been a teacher’s _favorite_.) He fought back a satisfied grin when the woman smiled slyly at him.

“Okay, class,” she started with a chipper timbre, frantically maneuvering behind her desk and grabbing a thick packet of stapled papers. “Let’s begin. We have a lot to get done today.” 

Clay’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion when Miss Roberts handed the papers to the new boy in front row – the same guy he’d seen around _Riley_ the day prior.

Clay sat up, alert now, in his seat. He watched as the new boy skimmed through the papers before gently setting them down and returning to writing in his notebook. Every now and then, his dark eyes would flicker to the screen of the SmartBoard. Ultimately, he remained closed off and inside his own little bubble.

Clay felt curious. While this school definitely had its fair share of introverts, this kid didn’t acknowledge _anything_. Was he mentally slow? Clay couldn’t help but to briefly smile at the thought.

“What did she hand to the new boy?” whispered Clay impulsively to the girl that sat next to him.

Gracie looked startled. The entire year, Clay hadn’t tried to start a conversation with her – the first time she had tried to start a conversation with him, he had rolled his eyes and sighed. The second time, he flatly told her that her mascara was smudged.

She glanced at the new boy (George, was it?) and shrugged. “The daily lesson,” she muttered.

Clay frowned. “ _Why_?“ Did he have bad vision? Adding to his suspicions, the boy _was_ sitting in the front row.

“Because he’s deaf,” Gracie curtly responded, annoyed. She brushed loose strands of hair behind her ear and sarcastically said, “He can’t exactly listen and write stuff down at the same time if he can’t hear.”

“Gracie!” called Miss Roberts with irritation. “If you’re going to talk during my time, you better make a perfect score on your next quiz.”

“I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered as her cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

As the class dragged on and on, Clay spent his time staring at the new boy - in his own little world away from the rest.

It was almost endearing.

At lunch, Clay only hardly heard what his girlfriend was rambling on about. When the ringing in his ears got too much to handle, he blurted out, “He’s a deaf-mute!”

Ashley stopped and stared at him wide-eyed. “I’m sorry, what?” She popped a french fry into her mouth and waited.

Clay blinked a few times. “The new boy. He’s a deaf-mute.”

“The new boy?” Ashley paused and then tilted her head to the side in thought. Then she grinned mischievously and said, “Oooh. The _new_ boy. He’s adorable.”

Clay rolled his eyes, pressing his lips into a firm line as jealousy picked at him. “Yeah. The new boy. His name is, uh, George?” He glanced behind him, to the brunette sitting sluggishly. He was picking at his food with sleepy eyes.

“Gross, look who he’s friends with,” mused Ashley, glancing at Riley who sat next to George. “You think he likes her?”

Clay shrugged and then scoffed bitterly. “I don’t know, Ash. They just met. She’s probably hanging out with him to virtue signal or whatever.“

Ashley smiled. “Probably. Honestly, he doesn’t look like a deaf.”

Clay smiled and glanced back at her. “And _you_ would know what a deaf looks like because. . .?” Ashley scowled at him and threw one of her french fries in his direction.

“Didn’t his parents die or something?”

Clay raised his eyebrows. He leaned closer and said, “Oh, seriously?”

Ashley grinned and wiped her hands off on her skinny jeans. Excitement spilled from her lips as she told the story, “Yeah, okay so the story goes is that one night some dude broke in and murdered his parents. Look, it’s crazy! I mean, blood and guts all over the walls kind of crazy.”

Clay took it with a grain of salt. “I don’t believe that. At least, it probably wasn’t that epic. How would you know any of this anyways?”

“It was literally on the news, dumbass. Besides, Clay, I pay attention to the real world,” she said simply. Clay’s faint smile slipped from his lips. His fingers tingled and then twitched. He slowly pressed his fingers into his palm, forming a fist. Without noticing, Ashley continued, “But the really fucked up part is apparently he was in the next room during it. Like, holy shit. Just imagine.” She giggled, finding sick humor in the ordeal.

Clay blinked, unfazed. “Hey, babe, can you go get me an extra ketchup packet?”

Ashley pouted. “Um, go get it yourself.”

“ _Ash_ _ley_ ,” he bit. The look in his eye showing he wasn’t playing around. 

Ashley sighed. “Whatever. I needed more ketchup anyways.” She stood up with a huff and stormed off.

Clay turned his eyes back to George. He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled wide and _waited_.

It only took a few seconds. Slowly, George raised his head, feeling eyes on him.

Their eyes met and Clay dropped his smile immediately, staring blankly at him. George knitted his brows close together with confusion, beyond weirded out.

”I’m going to have fun with you,” taunts Clay.

But George was too far away, and it’s not like he could hear anyways. Clay grinned again and turned around in his seat, leaving the older boy staring at his back.

**WEDNESDAY**

Clay padded his way down the vacant hallways of his high school. Irritation nagged at him because of something Ashley had said. He turned one of the corners, intent on heading to the exit to have a “cigarette” break with one of his friends when he suddenly spotted _him._

Clay halted at the sight of the new boy, slouched and small, standing close to his locker. His dark brown hair was slicked back messily and his oversized green utility jacket blanketed him heavily. Black jeans clung to his thin legs. He searched frantically through his locker. So _so_ oblivious about the world around him. An intruder could come charging through the school right now, and George would have no clue. The blond’s heart raced.

Clay was a little confused – and surprised – that Riley was nowhere to be seen. Usually, she stuck by George’s side like super glue. Always had him following behind her like a shadow.

It was pathetic.

With suspicious eyes, Clay made the choice to just ignore the new kid. Force himself to just walk past him, act like he doesn’t exist. He knows it’s the right thing to do. He knows this.

But he can’t bring himself to commit. The idea is just so tempting, so fresh, that he finds himself stopping only after taking a few mere steps away.

His hand twitched as he looked back and forth at the exit and the new boy. Swallowing thickly, he slowly crept towards him; like a predator closing in on it’s prey. And then he stopped.

Clay noted that George was a lot smaller than he had originally thought. He couldn’t be taller than five-eight, maybe five-nine.

When he crouched down to his bag that lay idly by his feet, Clay released a wavering breath. Now he was even smaller. Like a little mouse he could crush with his foot. The image swirled inside his mind and he grinned.

Doubtful, maybe even a bit paranoid, he tested, “Hello.”

But George remained focused on what he was doing, flipping swiftly through his binder. Clay felt even more curious. He glanced around the hall to make sure nobody else was around, and then called out again – only to receive no response and no sign that the brunette had acknowledged him.

George removed a few papers from his binder and then slammed it closed. He hurriedly shoved his binder into his backpack and then stood to his full height. He yanked a book from his locker, opened to a specific page, and then shoved the papers inside, before slamming it closed. Clay grew impatient and brought his hand to behind the new boy’s ear. He snapped his middle finger and thumb together. The sound echoed. George didn’t even flinch.

Any distrust he had towards the brunette and his disability evaporated. But this only made him further interested.

George shut his locker and turned on his heels. His stomach twisted with shock when he bumped into a guy standing weirdly behind him. He slammed a hand against his chest with widened eyes before nervously mouthing an apology. 

The blond just continued to stare at him flatly. It hit George only a few seconds later that this was the guy that Riley had told him to stay away from. Taking her advice, George tried to step away, but the other male blocked him. 

His heart stuttered as the boy’s lips curled into a big grin. He took a step closer to George, and the brunette took a step back. The way his classmate was staring him down made his head spin as fear bubbled in his chest.

His back met with the cold surface of the lockers, and he found himself cornered. The taller boy still continued to move closer and closer, until they were only inches apart. 

There was a pause, and then, like nothing had happened, the guy turned and casually walked away – just as the bell rang and the halls began to fill with students. George gasped for air.

_Riley was right._

Clay didn’t really believe in monogamy. Why have one when you can have them all? This was the reason why he and Lily were at Smith’s Cliff.

When Ashley was too busy to hang out with him, he hit up other girls. Lily was the _lucky_ winner this time.

Although Smith’s Cliff had an absolutely stunning view of the city, Clay certainly didn’t bring Lily all the way out tonight for some sightseeing.

As they sat in Clay’s car, the radio playing softly in the background, Clay had Lily seated on top of his lap. Their lips locked together and music mixing in with moans. His warm hand slid under her shirt and gripped the cold flesh of her flat stomach. Her legs parted and his eyes caught site of the smooth, porcelain skin. He slowly ran his hand up her inner thigh. 

“What Ashley doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he whispered lowly into Lily’s ear and then he brought his hand to her clothed sex.

He peppered kisses alongside her neck. Her heavy breathing filled his ears and he shivered with delight.

_“You didn’t tell anyone where you were going, right?”_

_“Duh. I’m not stupid, Clay.”_

Clay pushed her underwear to the side and slid a bloody finger inside. Lily groaned as her eyes glossed over. “Goodnight, love,” he murmured and let her limp body fall from his lap.

The deep gash in her throat seeped bright red blood.


	3. Chapter 3

**THURSDAY**

GEORGE WAS SLUMPED over the bench in front of his opened gym locker. His bag sat in his lap, his hands fidgeting with the straps as he waited awkwardly for the other boys to get dressed. Swallowing nervously, trying not to let his eyes wander.

He felt so out of place. All the other boys so comfortable in their own body, some of them standing around in their underwear, casually talking to one another.

He couldn’t even take his shirt off without feeling embarrassed. He wished he had more confidence.

Insecurely, he crossed his arms over his bare chest and observed a group of boys laughing together about something that one of them had pulled up on their phone. It made him feel paranoid.

The whistle finally blew and the boys all tossed their regular clothes into their lockers – besides George who waited until the room was clear before he changed into the gym uniform: yellow shorts and a blue shirt with a Tiger mascot in the center. He shook his hair and then brushed his locks out of his face before leaving the locker room to join the other teens.

Today, the game was volleyball – which George sucked at. The class was split in half, boys versus girls.

George found his gaze catching site of Riley as he made his way to his side of the court and a small smile etched itself onto his lips. 

George stood in the back as the other boys played. Far too anxious and not confident enough to actually try to participate. Bored, he tried to find a distraction by messing with the bottom of his shirt. But deep down, he knew what he really wanted to look at was right across from him.

Sheepishly, he glanced over at the girls’ side of the court. His eyes filling with concern when he saw a deep sadness in Riley’s eyes; like she was going to burst into tears. 

He blushed when Riley met his eyes. She blinked a few times before giving him a small smile and then glancing away. George looked down at the floor in thought.

When he glanced back up a few moments later, his eyes widened when he spotted the volleyball coming straight for him. He only had time to brace for the impact before it slammed into his face, causing a pained grunt to fall from his lips. But it wasn’t the ball that sent him crashing into the hard ground.

“Fucking retard. Move next time,” spat Elijah King (who George had previously noted for taking gym class a little _too_ seriously.) 

One of Elijah’s friends helped him up, and the two boys scowled at George before returning their attention back to the game.

With a weighted sigh, George got back onto his feet, wincing from the slight pain that erupted throughout his bony wrist. _You stupid idiot, should have been paying attention,_ he scolded himself harshly.

When he glanced over in Riley’s direction (wondering if she had seen what had just happened), he was surprised to see she was no longer on the court. He glanced around and spotted her just as she rushed past the double doors of the gymnasium.

Curious – and a bit concerned for his friend – George shyly made his way to the plastic chair that Coach Miller sat in. The man held a clipboard and pen, jotting down marks for those who participated and those that didn’t. 

George signed to the man, asking if he could use the restroom. Coach Miller stared at him awkwardly and his features contorted into confusion. George huffed with frustration. A bit fed up (and in a hurry), he took the clipboard and pen from his pudgy hands. On the far left bottom, he wrote his question in small, messy black ink.

“Oh, of course!” he exclaimed and then shouted loudly, “ _Just take the hall pass on your way out!”_ As if him shouting was going to make George hear him.

A small group of freshman girls sitting on the bleachers laughed and giggled with amusement. One girl waggled her “ _doctor_ _note_ ” in the air.

George blushed and speed-walked past them, grabbing the plastic hall pass and making his way into the empty halls.

Guessing where Riley had gone, he ventured down the east hallway to the next corner. His eyes widened when he caught site of Riley, all puffy-eyed and reddened cheeks, stalking into the girls’ bathroom. George waited until the door closed behind her before he reluctantly followed. With gentle steps, he crept to the door and quietly pushed it open. 

There was only Riley, alone. George watched with concern as she stood in front of one of the mirrors, tears trickling down her cheeks. She gripped the edges of the sink so tightly her arm strained, looking visibly distraught. She took shallow, deep breaths.

George gasped when a hand reached around him and slammed the bathroom door shut. He took a few steps back and collided with a chest. Turning around, he found himself staring at the boy from earlier – except now he had learned his name was _Clay_.

“You really shouldn’t be creeping around,” he spoke sternly. 

George began to shake with fear. Clay had definitely seen him watching Riley. What if he got the wrong impression? He didn’t want someone spreading a rumor that he was a creep. His face paled when Clay smiled.

“Might see something you don’t wanna see. . .” Clay says, “or shouldn’t.”

The door suddenly jerked open behind George. He whipped his head to look at Riley’s tear-stricken face. “George?” she mumbles softly, her eyes perplexed, before she glanced up at Clay, and they grew cold.

Scared and embarrassed, George slipped away from in between them and rushed down the hallways. 

Clay laughed as he and Riley watched George run away. The redhead sent him a disgusted look and pursed her lips. Clay exclaimed, “It’s funny!”

”Stay away from him,” Riley spat. Clay’s features went blank as she stomped off.

“Bitch,” he scoffed.


	4. Chapter 4

CLAY WAS GOING to take his usual seat in the back corner but he froze in his spot when he saw George, sitting passively by the large windows. The seat next to him was empty, and he smirked coyly and began to make his way over. George glanced up when Clay roughly jerked the chair out. His eyes widened and Clay directed a lopsided grin at him. George breathed out nervously and quickly looked back down at his journal.

Mrs. Ambers came in the room, her teacher’s assistant trailing behind her, and went straight into the daily lesson. The TA gave each table a stack of papers with instructions for their new project. George flipped (rather eagerly, he’d always loved stuff like this) through the pages before brushing his dark locks out of his face. When Mrs. Ambers handed out the test tubes and beakers, George slipped his goggles on and dived into the experiment.

Clay only sat back in his chair and looked aimlessly around the room. Everyone else was busy with the task at hand or talking noisily amongst themselves. The teacher was grading papers with tired eyes while her assistant was looming over her shoulder. Clay focused his attention back on George. He watched the older teenager read carefully over the instructions (always so careful, aren’t you?), and then turn the bunsen burner on.

“It must suck,” whispers Clay aloud, knowing George would be as oblivious as ever. He leaned slightly towards George and placed his elbows on the table and hummed. “Living in total silence, every second of your life.” His head tilted in thought. “I couldn’t imagine it.”

George paused and then slowly twisted his head to stare warily at Clay. The blond only smiled and George quickly went back to his project.

“It’s kind of amazing. You have no idea what I’m saying. I could say anything, and you’d have no idea,” he continued with awe. He watched as George filled up a beaker with sugar, careful so he didn’t accidentally pass the quarter line. A lonesome strand of hair fell over George’s forehead. Clay’s finger twitched and his throat went dry. Shaking, he mused, “I wonder what sounds you’ll make when I cut into you.”

When the bell rang and signaled class as finished, everyone began to clean up. George slung his backpack over his shoulders and headed out the door. He spotted Riley at the end of the hall, two Starbucks coffee cups in hand. George smiled gently and managed to take only one step towards her when a hand gripped his arm firmly. He jumped and then slowly turned, to see Clay looming over him. His stomach twisted.

He extended his hand, offering George his dark blue pencil bag. George relaxed – only slightly – and took it from him. His paranoia spiked because _he could have sworn he had packed it away._

Clay smiled again. It was unnerving. Confusion bubbled inside George when the taller boy glanced at something beside him and his smile widened. After a moment, he glanced back down at George, winked, and then walked away.

Riley came rushing up to George’s side and handed him a cup of coffee – George smiled in appreciation, although he didn’t quite like coffee. He took note of the disturbed look on his friend’s features. “Was Clay bothering you?” she pried nervously, motioning towards the blond’s direction.

George only frowned and shrugged before taking a tiny sip of his drink.

Riley’s stare lingered on Clay before she sighed and turned back to George. “Well, if he ever does, um, just tell me, okay?”

George fake-smiled. He signed, ‘ _Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.’_

Even though Riley had wanted to believe what George had said earlier, it didn’t stop her personal vendetta with Clay from causing her to act impulsively. When next period came to a finish, she practically bolted out of the classroom and after the blond. She grabbed his arm – tightly – and dragged him into an empty, dark classroom. She closed the door behind them and sneered, “What the fuck are you doing?”

”What are you talking about?” hissed Clay, caught off guard. He frowned and pulled the sleeves of his dark shirt to his elbows.

“Quit your fucking act,” spat Riley. She glared at him. “What are you doing with George?”

Clay grinned. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Riles.”

“You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about.”

“George, George, George,” taunted Clay. “So what about him? I don’t see why you’re so mad.”

“Why do you keep talking to him? I told you to stay away from him.”

”What? I can’t be friends with him?” Clay hummed. “I think he’s cute.”

”Cut the shit,” scowled Riley.

Clay sighed heavily. His smile fell and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “God, why do you even care?”

“Because this is obviously to get back at me!” cried Riley. Her fists balled and Clay stared at them with amusement.

“Not everything is about you,” he responded easily. “I mean, gosh, I was just returning his pencil bag earlier. I don’t see what’s wrong with that. I was being nice.”

“You’re not ever nice. You’re a piece of shit.”

Clay’s expression turned serious. He licked his lips and said lowly, “I was nice to you. I treated you well.”

Riley wanted to mock him, but she bit her tongue. They were alone, so it was best not to piss him off. She swallowed thickly, disgust written all over her face, and swiped her bangs behind her ears.

He suddenly glared at her and took a step forward. Riley’s heart skipped a beat and she moved back several steps. Her eyes went wide and she quickly grabbed onto the handle of the door – only for Clay to yank her back. 

“What do you _want_?” she gasped. “What more could I possibly give you?”

He raised his hand. On instinct, she flinched – only for him to touch the bracelet she had hidden underneath her sleeve, raising the fabric and exposing the jewelry. He ran his touch along the material. Her blood ran cold and embarrassment nipped at her cheeks.

“You still wear it,” Clay stated, keeping his hand on her arm. “That’s so sweet.”

“Fuck you,” she bit.

He dropped his hand at her side and said flatly, “Get rid of it.”

Riley scoffed. She jerked away from him, gripped the handle of the door again, and sneered, “Stay the fuck away from George. And me.”

“I can’t.”

Riley left without another word.

”Party at mine tomorrow night,” announced Emily. She dropped her tray heavily on the table, next to Riley’s, and then sat down. A magnetic smile settled on her red lips. “My parents will be gone for the weekend, so the place is all mine. You gotta come, Riley.”

Riley sighed and stuck her hand into the bag of chips she and George were sharing – popping one into her mouth and then shrugging. “I’m not sure I can make it.”

“Oh, come on,” pouted Emily. “It’s gonna be so much fun.”

Riley smiled at George and then rolled her eyes when Emily had glanced away. He gave a small grin back before grabbing a chip. 

“I have a lot of studying to do for the exams,” said Riley flatly.

“More like you just don’t want to hang with me anymore,” accused Emily curtly.

“What? No, that’s not true at all. I just don’t have time for that stuff anymore, Em.”

Emily scoffed and rolled her big blue eyes. She turned to George and looked at him for a few seconds. A smile budding on her lips as she inquired, “How about you, mute? Do you like to party?”

“Hey,” warned Riley, not appreciating what Emily had called him.

Emily continued to try to persuade the pair, “Come for like an hour. Or half that time if it’s so terrible. Come on, please?”

Riley’s response was to take another chip and chew it. Emily groaned with frustration.

“Come on, Riley. I miss you. I miss the parties we used to have together.”

Riley sighed and glanced at George, having been worn down enough for one day. “We don’t have to go, George. But if you want to, we can.”

George swallowed, intimidated by the way Emily snapped her eyes to him and stared intensely. He sheepishly shrugged in agreement.

Emily squealed and jumped in her seat. “Great! It’s at nine tomorrow night.” She stood quickly and grabbed her tray with one hand, patting George on the shoulder before leaving to invite others.

Riley frowned deeply and stared down at the table, her shoulders rising as she sighed sadly.

George tilted his head to the side, poked her lightly on the shoulder to get her attention, before signing, _‘It’ll be fun.’_

Riley smiled then _._ But it fell when she spotted Clay leaving the cafeteria, his features as emotionless as ever.

“Yeah, I guess,” she murmured, swallowing the lump in her throat.

George gazed up at the ceiling of his dim room, observing the shadows of the droplets of rain that dribbled down the windows. The seething storm outside making his stomach twist – nights like these that made him lonely and sad.

The thick blanket pulled up to his shoulders did little to make him less cold. He waited for sweet slumber to overtake him, but it never did. Even after he had forced himself to take two of Jaime’s sleeping pills (and then another one after he got _really_ desperate).

His scattered mind raced and thoughts ran around his head. He found himself remembering _that_ night and his stomach dropped. Tears brimmed his eyes and he whimpered, rolling onto his side. He closed his eyes, took a shaky breath, and thought about something other than the metallic scent of his parents’ blood or brain matter lining the once pristine white walls of their home.

He opened his eyes and focused on the clock propped on the nightstand and watched as it flashed eleven ‘o four. He turned on his other side, away from the bright red light, and stared at the wall that separated him and his aunt. Even though she’d never dared to cry in front of him and always presented him with nothing but smiles, _he could almost hear her sobs._

George ripped the blankets off of his body and crawled out of bed. Not that he could tell, he quietly made his way to his aunt’s room, where the woman laid curled up in her thick covers, sobbing hysterically.

Jaime froze when she felt the bed dip behind her.

She sucked in a breath when she felt George softly stroke her hair. She screwed her eyes shut and sniffled.

Clay walked back and forth. He clenched, unclenched, and then clenched his aching fists. 

It was late, past midnight by now, and pitch black outside. But he couldn’t sleep, not when his mind was running wild. His phone blasted loud pop music, but it didn’t drown out any of the noise inside his head.

The more he let himself think, the angrier and angrier he grew.

Upset, he swiped his phone from his nightstand and chucked it at the wall. It shattered upon impact and broke a moment later, leaving him with nothing but silence and his own thoughts.

He fell on his knees at the foot of his bed. He buried his pulsating head in his hands and breathed heavily, trembling. The heavy rain outside beat against his windows, creating a rhythm similar to that of the aching of his skull.

As each hour passed, it felt like everything was getting worse and worse – that feeling amplified when the new boy had shown up.

_Clay, please help. . ._

_Are you ready to beg for forgiveness?_

He gasped out and tangled his fingers within his sweaty hair. He yanked at the strands with exasperation. His fists balled and he hit himself over and over in the head.

_It’s our secret. . ._

No, no, no, no, no–

“ _NO_!” Clay screamed.

_Get out of my head, get out of my head, get out of my he–_

_Clay was six when he had first ever witnessed his mother and father really, really argue. They’d had spats and disagreements before, like any married couple, but it had never been like this._

_His father would never let arguments go too far. He wanted to shelter and protect his son. Anytime he caught a whiff of alcohol on his wife, he’d give her the silent treatment._

_But sometimes, she’d be able to corner him. And then walking away wasn’t an option._

_He peered through the crack of their bedroom door and observed them. Their voices loud with venom and their hands flying frantically as they both made their points._

_”They’re fighting about you,” a whisper floated into his ear._

_His stomach flipped and he turned to see his older cousin. Mia was fifteen and he thought she was so so cool. She smiled down at him and crossed her arms expectantly._

_“They always argue about you,” she mocked and Clay felt hurt._

_Clay watched as she turned on her heel. She beckoned for him to follow and he did._

_Mia led him to his room and shut the door behind them, the click of the lock echoing in Clay’s ears._


End file.
